


The Bearheart Chronicles - Broken

by MelanaAdara



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7811545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelanaAdara/pseuds/MelanaAdara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bearheart brothers lead their friends and family in the assault on Broken Shore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Broken Shores scenario as seen through the eyes of the Bearheart brothers. Some of Anduin Wrynn's words come from the game text, everything else is mine.

Broken  
For the benefit of those who haven’t read the Bearheart Chronicles, a brief introduction to my characters and their complicated relationships. You can skip this if you’re not interested.  
Death knights - Gillaen (human) and Nerissina (worgen)  
Druids - Arrentai (worgen) and Ceryth (night elf)  
Hunters – Jassenth (human), Maelinastra and Maeryth (night elf), Nieh (draenei)  
Mage – Josstellan (night elf) and Raewynn (human)  
Paladins – Hestia (human) and Aralen (dwarf)  
Priests – Kayllen (draenei) and Taliesa (worgen)  
Rogues – Jothan (human) and Rosamyna (night elf)  
Shaman – Gemelissa (draenei) and Sylviane (dwarf)  
Warlock – Lizabetha (human)  
Warriors – Lissan (human) and Amarya (dwarf)  
Pairings -  
Gillaen and Nerissina, Arrentai and Lizabetha, Josstellan and Maelinastra, Jothan and Hestia, Aralen and Amarya, Kayllen and Gemelissa, Lissan and Jassenth.  
Arrentai and Nerissina are former lovers and have a grown up daughter, Taliesa. Rosamyna has a troll lover with whom she has a child.  
\-----------------  
Gillaen  
I couldn’t believe what I'd just seen. Couldn’t believe how quickly everything could fall apart, could go so disastrously wrong.  
It had started with a letter. Halfway through a normal uneventful day at the garrison Thorn had handed me a letter. Written on heavy parchment and sealed with the king’s crest on blue sealing wax, it was no ordinary letter. I unfolded it and read it slowly, disbelief filling my mind.  
The Burning Legion had returned.  
Stormwind must have send out hundreds of these letters, printed en masse, with only our names handwritten. Our king had called on us to go to the Broken Isles, to try to drive back the Burning Legion before they could destroy our world. I was to gather together a troop of soldiers and supporting personnel and join the army about to sail from Stormwind.  
I went in search of Nerissina and our friends, and showed them the letter. Without exception they chose to come with me. I ordered Lord Selterus and the other officers to ready their troops. Most would accompany us, leaving Thorn to command the garrison with just a handful of troops and of course our followers.  
Josstellan opened a portal and we marched through, arriving in the forest just outside Stormwind’s gates. The whole area was filled with troops from every race in the Alliance. To my surprise there was a further group of friends waiting for us, some I would have expected, others less so, and one or two unknown to me.  
Josstellan, Maelinastra, Arrentai and Lizabetha had come from Draenor with Nerissina and I. We were joined by Jothan and Hestia, Lissan and his companion, a young hunter named Jassenth who seemed not much older than Taliesa. Joss and Maeli were joined by three other kaldorei, his sister Maeryth, her cousin Rosamyna and an older white haired male who was introduced to us as Maelinastra’s uncle Ceryth. I'd never met him before, but apparently Arrentai had, both being druids. Aralen and Amarya Barleyleaf were there too, accompanied by her sister Sylviane, a shaman.  
We made camp there, awaiting orders. It was almost nightfall when a messenger came to tell us that we would be embarking on the ships in the morning after last preparations.  
As darkness fell I sat watching as my troop took their evening meal. How many of them, I wondered, would return? Would I? We were soldiers, casualties were an expected part of our life and we were going up against an enemy few of us had ever dealt with. I knew that not all of us would survive.  
I turned my gaze upon the civilians in my group. Some were family, others I counted among my friends, many of them had children who needed them to return. And I was responsible for them all. Nerissina came and sat beside me and I put my arm round her. I didn’t care if it was bad for discipline, letting the men see me hugging her, but it was good for me and I needed the reassurance of her closeness. I wasn’t the only one who felt that way; I saw Arrentai holding Lizabetha close. They’d had to leave their infant son in Draenor and she was clearly upset about that, but determined to pit her own demons against the Burning Crusade to help keep the world safe for him.  
After what seemed the longest night ever we packed up our camp and headed through the city to the docks. The sight that met our eyes was unbelievable. There were ships as far as the eye could see, and every square inch of the quayside was covered with recruiting officers, support services, supplies, war machines; everything we might possibly need. And so many troops!  
Once we’d signed up we were told to get our armour repaired and re-enchanted at the dwarven forges, and our weapons embued with Light empowered enhancements from draenei crystals. Then we were given our ship assignments and told to board. I led my troop along the dock to our ship to encouraging comments from the dockworkers there. I couldn’t help but be aware of how differently we death knights were being regarded now. Today I wasn’t a shunned unwanted former enemy of the people; I was one of a vast army of heroes going out to defend our world against destruction.  
As each ship was filled it set sail. The Broken Isles were not so far away and with the aid of mage magic speeding our ships we got there within days. We didn’t wait for the entire army to arrive, there wasn’t time for that. As soon as each ship arrived at the Broken Shore we disembarked and joined the battle already raging. It was a terrible place, dark, desolate, full of fel magic and strange un-nameable structures that seemed to just push their way up out of the ground. I'd never before encountered anything like it.  
We fought our way off the shore, battling demons all the way, with orders to join up with the king and the rest of the army already ahead of us. All the time reinforcements were arriving and joining us, but it seemed it would never be enough; no matter how many we were the demons were more.  
Eventually we caught up with the front lines; and during a brief lull in the fighting I went to see if there were any new orders. I arrived in time to hear the king asking members of the Argent Crusade if they’d seen Tirion Fordring. No one seemed to know where he was; he’d been leading the crusaders, as always in the thickest of the fighting and had simply disappeared from sight.  
We had to shut down the demons’ portals, we were told; we had to stop them reaching our world from the Twisting Nether, from their own un-named worlds. That made sense to me; cutting off an enemy’s supply lines was always a good move.  
And so we fought on, climbing ever higher into the demons’ domain, until at last Lady Jaina Proudmoore was heard to call out that she’d found Tirion. It wasn’t easy to move forward, the ground was broken up, split by wide chasms of glowing fel fluids, impossible for us to cross. But Jaina had the answer to that. She and her fellow mages worked together to make incredibly strong ice bridges across the chasms. We crossed them, forging ahead as best we could, but we were too late.  
Gul’dan had the paladins’ leader captive, using his foul magic to suspend him over an immense pool of the fel fluid. There was no way to reach him; none of our magics were strong enough. I tried, I'm sure other death knights did too, to use death grip to pull him to safety, but we couldn’t reach. Gul’dan knew enough about our abilities and limitations to taunt us that way.  
Horrified we could only watch as Gul’dan summoned a massive demon that rose out of the fluid, and killed Tirion. Gul’dan let his body drop into the fel fluid. The demon waded towards us and we engaged it in combat, it was strong, so much so that we seemed to make hardly any impact on it. The Horde army that had come up on the opposite side of the pool also joined the fight and slowly we wore the demon down as it waded back and forth between our two forces, and eventually it fell.  
“We must stop Gul’dan!” the king yelled; and after exchanging a few brief words with Sylvanas Windrunner he led us in pursuit.  
At the height of the mountain we caught up with him, seemingly alone and the king called on him to surrender. He simply mocked us as all around him appeared an army of demons. The battle was fierce and bloody, and we lost a lot of good men and women that day. Even so, with the Horde fighting alongside us we seemed to be holding out, getting the upper hand even. Then in the blink of an eye it had fallen apart.  
For reasons known only to herself Sylvanas Windrunner, leading the Horde contingent fighting on the cliffs above us, pulled her fighters out, retreated without warning. Without their support we had no chance. The king ordered us to fall back to the Skyfire and reluctantly we obeyed. Those of us more heavily armed, warriors, paladins, death knights, the king himself, stayed on the ground to hold back the demons as the more vulnerable, light-armoured fighters, the hunters, rogues, shaman, the spellcasters, the mages and priests, climbed the swaying rope to get on board, the injured being hauled up by their fellows or carried through portals opened briefly by the mages. No one would be left behind if we could help it.  
The king ordered the rest of us on board. I looked around, made sure that Nerissina and Hestia were safe. I saw both climbing the ladders. I hoped the others who’d come with me were safe, I'd lost track of most of them in the fighting. Lissan, beside me, gave a nod as he began to climb. I saw the king begin to climb and did likewise. It wasn’t easy, we were exhausted and 45 pounds of plate armour will weigh you down at the best of times.  
I was close to the top when the demons starting attacking the gunship and we were taking damage, despite the best efforts of Mekkatorque’s finest engineers. The demons were firing bolts of fel energy at us that shook the ship in the sky. I heard Greymane call out to the engineers to get us out of there, but before they could do so a massive fel reaver reared up out of the fel flames below us and grabbed the side of the ship. It tilted, spilling men from the deck, causing some of those on the ladders to lose their grip. I watched helplessly as they plunged to their deaths. I too might have fallen had I not felt the unmistakable pull of a death grip. I glanced up to see Nerissina above me; then looked away again.  
The king, mere yards from me, had lost his grip and was hanging on by one hand as Greymane tried to reach him from the deck. I saw his expression as he watched his men falling, as he glanced down at the demonic construct. Briefly he reached up to hand Greymane a letter, his words lost in the noise. I reached out to death grip him, but he saw and shook his head. Horrified, I could only watch as he let go and dropped onto the reaver’s head. Again and again he plunged his sword into its skull until it released the ship and fell. Landing on the ground out of the reach of any of us, Varian pulled his sword into its two halves and fought against the demons that surrounded him. Helpless, we watched as he was struck down and that foul orc Gul’dan drained the life from him.  
I clung there in shock as the gunship lurched again, avoiding yet another fel missile.  
“Gillaen, climb!” I heard Nerissina call, and aided by her death grip I obeyed. Strong hands pulled me over the rail and I collapsed, shaking, onto the deck, hearing the voices of my friends around me. I remember very little of the voyage home, all I clearly recall is the voices of Arrentai and Hestia as they tried to give me healing that I neither needed nor wanted. I just wanted to be left alone to come to terms with what I'd seen. In the end a childish display of temper got me what I wanted and I retreated to a corner on my own. Even Nerissina kept away, turning instead to Arrentai for comfort.  
I finally came to my senses as we flew into Stormwind harbour, emerging from my isolation to rejoin my companions.  
Nerissina told me that Greymane had asked to speak to me. With Varian’s loss the Gilnean king had taken control of our forces and was busy making plans to repair the damage we’d taken and to continue the fight; now he wanted me to take Varian’s letter and give it to his son, the new king of Stormwind. I took the sealed scroll and tucked it safely in the pouch at my belt before asking him why he did not take it himself.  
“I can’t face another funeral,” he replied. “I've seen enough suffering for a lifetime. What I need now is to bring justice to our enemies.”  
We were loaned gryphons belonging to the Gilnean army to get us to the keep, to save us from having to cross the city on foot or horseback. I was grateful for that, I dreaded seeing the grief on the faces of all the people. We were dropped off at the gates to the keep where we gathered as a group. I was selfishly glad that all those I cared about had made it through the ordeal alive if not unscathed.


	2. Chapter 2

Arrentai  
I couldn’t blame my brother for the way he behaved on the Skyfire on the journey home. I'd seen soldiers affected like this before, so badly traumatised by what they’d gone through that they couldn’t face reality, retreating instead to a place where they felt safe. I hadn’t seen what happened to the king; I'd been helping the healers on board to deal with the many casualties. Nerissina told me the details later.  
What I saw was Hestia, herself covered in blood and Light knows what else, trying to help Gillaen and being pushed away, to the accompaniment of a mouthful of abuse fouler than I'd ever heard from him before. I finished dealing with my patient and handed him over to a young priest to be helped below deck before going to see if I could do anything. Hestia sat where she’d fallen staring horrified at Gillaen.  
“I couldn’t save him,” he was ranting. “I couldn’t fucking save him. He wouldn’t let me death grip him.”  
I glanced at Nerissina in hope of an explanation.  
“The king. Gillaen was close enough to death grip him, but he wouldn’t accept it. He didn’t fall, he deliberately let go, sacrificed himself to save us from the fel reaver.”  
As she spoke I cautiously scanned Gillaen with my magic to see if he was injured, but he had only a few superficial wounds that his blood magic would deal with.   
“Leave me alone,” he snapped. “I don’t want your bloody healing. What right have I to be alive when good men like Varian and Tirion are dead.”  
I couldn’t handle his tantrum. I'd been healing throughout the fighting, continuing to do so after I got on board, and I was exhausted and mana-starved. I stumbled away in search of a supply of mana potions before I collapsed. I plucked a bottle from a crate and sat down on the deck beside it, struggling to get the cap off. A small hand reached out and took it from me, returning it minus the cap. I drank it straight down. It was the strongest potion made and it hardly took the edge off my need. Hestia handed me another bottle which I drank more slowly.   
“What’s with Gillaen’s aversion to healing?” she asked.  
“It’s the Light. It burns him as it heals. He’ll only accept it as a last resort.”  
“Oh! I didn’t know.”  
“Not your fault. Most healers don’t know unless they deal with death knights on a regular basis. Just leave him until he calms down.“  
A third bottle of potion restored me to the point that I felt able to continue healing. I got to my feet and with a nod to Hestia I wandered off in search of more patients. Most of them seemed to have been taken below decks now so I headed down there. A familiar voice caught my attention and I turned to see Kayllen busily at work. His wife Gemelissa was there too.  
“Anything I can do to help?” I offered. I was pointed in the direction of a death knight who shared Gillaen’s aversion to the Light and was weakly fighting off the priest trying to help him even as his guts were spilling out of a gaping hole in his side. I knelt at his side and gently let my magic touch him. At once he stopped fighting and let me repair the damage. He looked so young, as though he’d had hardly any life at all before being taken in undeath. As he subsided into sleep I looked up at the priest and got the shock of my life.  
“Taliesa! What are you doing here?” I demanded of my daughter. Last I'd seen her she was still in training at the cathedral.   
“I had to come,” she replied nervously. “I couldn’t just stay in Stormwind while everyone was saving the world. And Kayllen insisted I stay on the Skyfire. So don’t be angry with him.”  
I had no intention of blaming my friend. I knew my headstrong daughter too well for that. She was like her mother in that respect. I was just thankful that she was unharmed. By the end of the day I had assured myself that little harm had come to our friends. Ceryth seemed to be the worst injured, having taken a gash to the face that had blinded him in one eye and would leave him with a scar. He was remarkably sanguine about it, declaring that it wouldn’t stop him from fighting. As he usually fought in cat form he was probably right. Though what Raewynn would have to say was another matter entirely.  
By the time we reached Stormwind harbour Gillaen had calmed down enough to seem like his usual self, although he still wanted to be left alone. More than once I caught Nerissina watching him anxiously, as worried about him as I was. I knew how much he had respected both Tirion and Varian; Tirion had been his commanding officer when he’d been a paladin, and Varian had accepted him back into the Alliance when so many had rejected him. He was feeling their loss badly.  
Genn Greymane had taken over command of the army and sent a message by way of Nerissina asking Gillaen to speak to him. As a result we were asked to report to the keep, to the king; the new king Anduin Wrynn.   
Tess Greymane and Lorna Crowley organised gryphons for us to ride so we could get there quickly. It was just as well, most of us had no mounts; Gillaen and Nerissina could of course have summoned their death chargers, and Lizabetha her fel steed, and Ceryth and I didn’t need them anyway; but the others had no such ability and we were all weary. We were dropped off at the gate, nothing was allowed to fly in for fear of attack, and there was a profusion of guards both the usual soldiers and magic users. No one was taking any chances.   
As a group we walked up the steps to the doors, watched over by the statue of Varian Wrynn. We were allowed in; no one, I noticed, was forbidden entry. With the amount of guards present no enemy was likely to try anything.  
With Gillaen leading we walked though the keep to the throne room. The first thing anyone noticed on entering was the coffin; large, ornate, with an effigy of Varian on top, it was rightly the focal point of the room. It had to be empty, there was no way the king’s body could have been recovered, but that didn’t matter to the mourners who came to pay their last respects to the king they’d loved. It was a symbol of the man he’d been, larger than life and always there for his people. Each of us in turned bowed or knelt before the coffin and offered our silent prayers for Varian’s soul.  
Then we walked round the coffin to face our new king. Anduin sat on the throne, his shoulders slouched, looking helplessly out of place. He made no effort to hide his grief, but none of us thought any the less of him for that. He was little more than a child and had not expected this responsibility for many years yet. We bowed to him and acknowledged the leaders of all the Alliance factions who were gathered round him, ready to offer their support and help. There was clearly some disagreement among them though. Most were advocating working with the Horde to fight the Burning Legion, but not Jaina Proudmoore; she still could not forgive them for Theramore and argued that they could never be trusted. Their actions at Broken Shore proved this she insisted, but I felt there had to be a reason for that; and so too did the other leaders. In the end Anduin went with the majority, the obvious decision, and Jaina left in a huff.   
Anduin looked round at us all as he said,  
“My father dead... disaster on the Broken Shore... Jaina fixed on revenge... Everything is falling apart.”  
Gillaen handed him a scroll, a last letter from his father, and we waited patiently as he read it. After a few moments of silence he thanked us for bringing it. Then our attention was caught by a conversation between Malfurion Stormrage and his wife Tyrande. They were talking about the Illidari, a group of demon hunters created and led by Malfurion’s brother Illidan. He was uneasy that they had been released from their long imprisonment, she insisting that the situation must warrant it.  
Only then did I notice a man who stood apart. Clearly once kaldorei he must be of what they spoke. Dressed only in leather trousers and boots, his body was tattooed with bright green markings, he had horns like a demon’s and his eyes were concealed by a bandage. He bore in his hands matching warglaives. Curiously I stepped towards him and he turned to face me. I had the indisputable feeling that, blind as he was, he saw everything.  
“I am Jace Darkweaver,” he said quietly.   
“I bring urgent news, my king. Danger is all around you.”  
Anduin regarded him curiously.  
“I will hear what this demon hunter has to say.”  
Jace explained quickly that the demons were even now moving against us, targeting key locations around Azeroth to open portals to allow them to invade.  
“Even here in your keep you are not safe. I sense them close by.”  
“Show us!” I said, sensing his urgency. I too could feel a wrongness about us, but I didn’t have his ability to see the demons. Behind me I was aware of my companions drawing weapons, readying spells, prepared to defend our king.  
The demon hunter strode up to one of the guards and challenged him; before our eyes he transformed and ordered his fellow demons to attack.  
Jace yelled, “Portals opening! Here they come!”  
The next moment we were surrounded and fighting for our lives. I saw Velen cast a shield of light around the king as the leaders surrounded him, their own weapons out. He was safe enough; we had to take down the demons and their portals. Gillaen took command, ordering us to search the keep for the portals and destroy them. Demons were pouring in from the courtyard. Changing to my cat form, I stealthed past them and found the portal. It was fragile enough that several blows from my staff smashed it. I turned my attention to the demons that surrounded me. With the help of the guards, servants, even the scholars from the library I fought them until eventually there were none left in that part of the keep.  
I made my way back to the throne room. Bodies, mostly demonic, lay everywhere. Jothan appeared from the passageway to the entrance. He and Lissan had found another portal in the petitioner’s room. That too was destroyed and the demons being killed.  
Slowly we all gathered back in the throne room to report that the keep was once more safe.  
Anduin look at us, one by one.  
“This attack... even the battle on the Broken Shore... it’s only the beginning of the Legion’s campaign,” he said.  
“If we don’t find a way to stop them, we’re going to lose everything my father and the other leaders built. We need the strength of the Illidari behind us. I was unsure at first if it was wise to let them into the city, but they just saved our lives by Jace’s timely warning.   
“Arrentai, I gave them leave to set up camp in the Mage quarter; go to them, thank them for their help so far; and find out how else they can aid us.”  
He hesitated for a moment before continuing. I could tell he wanted to trusted them, but was all too aware of what they were.  
“Just keep your eyes open. They’ve harnessed a terrible power to become what they are, and we must be ready should they be consumed by the darkness within.”  
I nodded, understanding his caution.  
Looking round I saw that Gillaen was gathering our group together. Aside from a few more minor injuries they were all okay. Together we left the keep and gathered on the steps outside to discuss our next move.  
Gillaen needed to go and check on his men; I had to visit the Illidari as Anduin had requested; Aralen and Amarya, and Jothan and Hestia all wanted to check that their children were unharmed. The healers, my daughter included, were going to the cathedral, and Rosamyna wanted to make a report to SI7. We agreed that we would deal with these things and any other errands; then meet up at Jothan’s farm to discuss the future. There was never any doubt in our minds that we would be facing it together.


End file.
